


Skinny Love

by hell_oboys



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Sadish, Smut, Song shot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:41:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hell_oboys/pseuds/hell_oboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every kiss they would hold between each other was sought out of desperation, a need to be felt. Adored. Loved. Harry was constantly fighting for a stable relationship in his life, his overloaded schedule doing nothing but impairing his attempts, so when she came along, her tall slim figure, framed by flowing brown hair and intoxicating red lips, seemingly as lost as himself, it took him no time to take the advantage he as given, and cling to the hope of her, and to what he insisted to call love. With every touch of her skin to his, Harry’s heart sank in his chest, he knew it was not what he wanted, but only something he craved. Her alluring inexplicableness that captivated him kept him close, desperate for the attention she would give him, a feeling or worth and need. To him, she smelt like vanilla with a mix of a scented rose, and looked like indescribable beauty, only causing him to crave more contact with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinny Love

Skinny love: _Love that is too emaciated to survive. It is not properly fleshed out, and is doomed for failure._

Harry sat alone in his room, his face held in his hands as he constantly rubbed over his temples, then forward to his face and back again, trying to release himself, even slightly, from the constant and relentless dull throb in his head. His mind was racing, every thought of her running through his mind. He was alone with her by his side, and even more so when he sat in the quite secludes of his own home; there seamed to be no escaping the isolation he felt, but if this was him without her, he needed to keep her as long as he could. He wished he could run, act as if none of this had happened, as though he never met her, and somehow, make their past invisible. However deep inside Harry knew who he was, and that was clever, compassionate, and sometimes even comical, but somehow his personality would always get lost someplace amid his heart and his mouth and he would find himself saying the wrong thing, and at times, nothing at all, so he knew he could not do such a thing, that it would never work, no matter how hard he tried, even with her backing that their scars would remain, and no salt would heal their wounds, because love, no matter how weak is stronger then all therapies. 

Harry could not deny the feebleness he held, unable to bring himself to the point of being able to save both from further pain, he could not do that to her, to himself. He knew he could never love her the way she deserved to be love, and she herself could never love him the way he desired. They were a lost cause, a love destined to end, but they both held on, because empty love sounds better then lonesomeness.

Every kiss they would hold between each other was sought out of desperation, a need to be felt. Adored. Loved. Harry was constantly fighting for a stable relationship in his life, his overloaded schedule doing nothing but impairing his attempts, so when she came along, her tall slim figure, framed by flowing brown hair and intoxicating red lips, seemingly as lost as himself, it took him no time to take the advantage he as given, and cling to the hope of her, and to what he insisted to call love. With every touch of her skin to his, Harry’s heart sank in his chest, he knew it was not what he wanted, but only something he craved. Her alluring inexplicableness that captivated him kept him close, desperate for the attention she would give him, a feeling or worth and need. To him, she smelt like vanilla with a mix of a scented rose, and looked like indescribable beauty, only causing him to crave more contact with her. 

Their intimacy always began the same way, A subtle bite to her bottom lip would light a single in his head, conforming that she needed his touch as much as he needed hers, and almost immediately Harry’s mouth would attach to her neck and his arms to her hips as a soft and intoxicating moan would fall from her lips and flow through Harry’s ears causing a swelling to erupt in his skin tight jeans. Harry would only then lay a single ingenuous touch to her leg, as if pleading with her to beg for more, and he always got what he wanted. Their kisses where like pleas, cries of lust, nothing more than pure thirst was powering their fight for relief from one another. With a forceful push to the bed, she would fall before Harry, looking up and meeting her eyes with his, observing his need, and sending her further into ecstasy before he even began. Her legs would shake beneath Harry’s lean body as he placed a soft touch to her clothed sex, she was a simple girl at home, only ever wandering around the house in one of his t-shirt and her panties, making her easily accessible to him, always testing his self-control. Even with the thin barrier between his fingers and his desired destination he could feel her warmth radiating through and the dampness was also evident. Harry would slowly stroke upwards once before holing his figures into the sides of her lace garments and yanking them down with full force, to impatient, to overwhelmed by what was to come to care about his present actions. Sometimes Harry was one to thrive off the pleasure he gave her. He loved to see her wither beneath him, pant out his name with the limited breath of air she had. 

Harry’s mouth would wander slowly down her body, peppering her delicate frame with kissing. He could feel the heat radiating off her sex, and see the moister trickling down her leg. She always needed him. With a simple touch of his lips to her clit a moan would escape from her mouth, echoing through the room and urging Harry to continue. His mouth would work wonders, with intoxicating flicks of his tongue sending her into a mess of fidgets and pants until she finally came for him, her screams telling him what he would already know. Harry would almost hear the erratic beating of her heart, still begging for more, insisting for him to continue, though his plans were already to do so. 

Harry would place his own hand to his already hard member, stroking it firmly, once, twice, before lining himself slowly up with her entrance, his tip collecting the remanence of her overpowering orgasm, exciting him even more. With a rough and powerful thrust, emphasised by the moan emitted from his lips, Harry would be within her and could feel nothing but her around him, her wetness was intoxicating almost, only giving him so much pressure that he couldn’t bare to hold still any longer, he had to move, and so he did. Each thrust was powerful, strong, making her scream out in ecstasy and himself, grunt in pleasure. That was the thing about them; they always overwhelmed each other, pushing each other over the edge so quickly that it was almost embarrassing. But their bodies craved it, and it was the only thing that kept them at peace with their unloving circumstances. Harry would grunt as he thrust one last time, hitting his peak and releasing inside of her as she screamed. 

Then Harry pulled away with a sigh, not bearing to look at her. He couldn’t decide if this was worse then all those merciless one-night stand he was accused of, sleeping with her over and over again, no feeling for her running through him, yet he chose to let her believe so, not that he had ever been that good of an actor, he knew she knew, because she was the same. He knew she felt the same way about him, well, that she didn’t. And it needed to end. Harry sat up against the head board of his bead, pulling the soft white sheet up to cover his hips, trying to keep some decency in such a situation. He turned his head to the right to see her body laying hopelessly beside him, the same sheet warp around her chest, showing her side of self-consciousness seeping through, even after the intimate act they shared.

A sigh fell from her lips; she knew what was coming, and tried to avoid Harry’s eyes.  
“I’m Sorry” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse and weak, showing nothing but his vulnerability.  
“I know”  
“I do love you though”  
“Just not the way you wish you did”  
And Harry stayed silent, signalling his agreement.  
“I love you too though, Harry.” Harry hummed appreciatively. “But, I know its not the way you want yourself to be loved.”  
His eyes fell softly, closing, trying to take it all in. He felt a shrug of the bed beside him, and a simple kiss on his forehead, and when his eyes opened, she was gone. 

Harry did care about her though, and couldn’t help but wonder who would now be the one to Love her, if anyone would try to keep her as close to him as he did all this time; even if it was only sought out of desperation, who would fall for her they way he did, the way he so effortlessly fell when he was in such a state. Who would lie to themselves like he did; tell themselves he loved her. Who would be different? He wanted her to have someone different, to have someone who loved her in every way she deserved, in every way he struggled too.


End file.
